


Schöne Worte, und Schöne Männer

by shm00mzz



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, How Do I Tag, Leorio has unnamed parents but don't worry about them, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Leorio, Princess Neon Nostrade, Royal Associate Kurapika, Slow Burn, big fancy pretentious vocabulary, hisoka is a literal fool, historically inaccurate- please dont smite me, hxh cities as kingdoms, lotsa subplots, shits self and dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shm00mzz/pseuds/shm00mzz
Summary: (Beautiful Words, and Beautiful Men)When Sir Kurta, a knight in the court of Nostrade, was assigned to be the princess’ royal associate, he’d never expected this. Never in his life had he considered that he would end up laying next to the prince of a foreign kingdom in the tall grasses of a castle courtyard. It was late, and they were so, so tired; but they dare not close their eyes, lest the moment slip away as if it were a dream. They wished not to waste a single second of what little time they had together, hands intertwined, gazing at the glittering stars in an inky black sky.During the day, they had duties to perform and expectations to reach, but under the cover of night, they could be together. Under the cover of night, they could be madly and deeply in love, without restraint or apologies. Under the cover of night, they longed to escape and never return.They had stolen each other away, and they were all but repentant for it.
Relationships: Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 33
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo!!! This is a big fucking self indulgent very tropey fic. Shoutout to Kxrapikaz for barking and screaming at my writing and hyping me up, you are truly epic and sex c B) Thank you to Gibby for beta reading B)  
> Also a quick heads up: I know nothing of time periods or how monarchies or any of this works I'm just starving for content like this.  
> TW for mentions of executions and hangings.

The sound of horses’ hooves against stone roads rattled against Kurapika’s ears without ever entering his mind. He had much to think about, beyond taking in the sights and sounds of an unfamiliar location. He stared down blankly at the ornate lace cuffs of his shirt sleeves and once again ran over the orders he’d been given, mentally mapping out checklists, letters, and instructions that he’d been receiving for the weeks leading up to this trip. In this line of work, you could never be too sure of your preparedness.

Seated on the center of the elegant plush bench across from him was a bright eyed young woman of nineteen years, one guarding knight on each side. She clutched parchment letters in her pale, slender hands, eagerly raking her eyes across the writing countless times. She was a bit old to be married off, for the king had simply hesitated for far too long. He wanted to  _ gain  _ from this, to have alliances with powerful nations that met his criteria, and these wishes seemingly forbade him from ever letting her be wedded. The story the princess knew was that her father loved her far too deeply to let her go, and he had to find the perfect husband for her before he could even  _ dream  _ of sending her away. Sadly, he was just a power hungry tyrant with no concern for his daughter’s future, and was simply waiting for the best opportunity.

The royal family of Swardani was, without a doubt, the best they could possibly get. Bringing trade, military power, security, and great wealth.

Everyone within the royal family’s inner circle had been anticipating the verdict on whether or not the princess was to be married to the crown prince of such a powerful kingdom. Letters were sent back and forth for over a year. Castle staff members travelled to the kingdom for long discussions, as it would happen, a few still resided there, and for those last nights before receiving the final letter, it felt as if the entire kingdom was holding its breath. Until, finally, they received confirmation that the princess was to be wedded at the end of the month. All privy to the possibility were overjoyed, spending the next week frantically preparing. The king, of course, would not attend. But it was to be a momentous celebration nonetheless. The princess would travel with Eliza, her lady in waiting, Hisoka, the court’s entertainer, Basho and Squala, two of the castle’s best knights, and of course, Kurapika, her royal associate.

It’d been 4 days of travelling thus far, with one more still ahead of them; perhaps more if they encountered any setbacks. They were journeying by land, on a loaded horse-drawn carriage that would stop overnight at fine inns and coach houses. Kurapika was wedged against a glassless window by the lady in waiting and the court entertainer beside him, and he religiously scanned over the notes he’d taken in a leather bound book. It was his source of comfort in uncertainty, full of thick pages that no longer stood empty, covered in his intricate and organized handwriting. It provided a sense of control.

“So, sir, are you eager as well? I can hardly wait for our arrival.”

He was rocked from the depths of thought by her voice, startled and fully unaware of what had just been said. Unaware of whether it was  _ him  _ she’d been talking to, even. Though when he lifted his head, he met her expectant gaze. Drawing a breath, he replied,

“Please do forgive me, your highness. I so easily find myself adrift whilst travelling. Would you kindly repeat yourself?”

The princess giggled into her hand before leaning towards him. “I asked if you were eager. I am beside myself with excitement, do you feel the same?” 

Kurapika nodded dryly, eyes closed. “Of course. This is quite an occasion, is it not? In a day’s time, you are to meet the man you will marry. Anyone would be blessed to be in your place.” There was no truth in his words. Being married off was a fate worse than death in his eyes. Yet, whatever pleases her highness Neon Nostrade is what must be said.

She grinned absently and guided a few stray hairs back into their place, after which they sunk back down to rest beside her ear. There was no need for intricate and extravagant styling while travelling, and the dresses she’d worn during the journey were nothing to marvel at. All shapeless red fabric with unremarkable detailing, her hair either tied up at the back of her head or draped over her slender shoulders.

They had been selected by Eliza, who insisted that comfort be prioritized on this trip. The travelers would stay overnight at only the finest locations, the carriage interior was the pinnacle of splendor, and the two knights that accompanied her were perhaps the very best the king had to offer. Yet, despite all of this, the journey felt like walking on eggshells. This was in part due to Kurapika’s overthinking, though also rooted in the cruel nature of the real world. 

No matter, the hardest of the trip was over. They had already been through the most perilous counties and villages, blessing some ease of mind upon the passengers. All that was left now was to travel ‘til sundown, spend one more night in an unfamiliar place, and finally arrive at the destination near midday. 

“I wish to be entertained,” the princess declared suddenly. The court’s entertainer stirred from his relaxed position, grinning, which sent a wholly unpleasant tingle down Kurapika’s spine. He’d admit that this jester was good at his job, but that didn’t absolve him of Kurapika’s distaste, as his demeanor was generally quite inviting of suspicion. He spoke with an inappropriately sensual lull to his words and he was most certainly a devious individual. Whispers around the castle rumoring of how he came to be under the king’s employ varied from paying his way in using stolen goods, to murders, to simply appearing one day and using backhanded tricks to convince everyone around him that he was, indeed, a member of the castle staff. Whether or not Kurapika believed these rumors was of little importance.

The Jester hummed quietly and spoke in his irritating voice, “Oh, your highness, on this day I am not equipped with much to entertain. I've a deck of cards, do you wish to play? The game is your choice.”

Her highness nodded eagerly, and the Jester drew the aces out of the deck as they set off into a modified game of Karnöffel. Their banter was distracting but not enough to keep Kurapika from opening his notes back up and going over details yet again. They had long since crossed into Padokea, and should be arriving at The Estate of Grand Duke Zoldyck shortly before sundown. One knight would stand outside of the room where the princess slept, the other at the end of the hall. The jester, lady-in-waiting, and coachman would sleep in the adjacent room. Kurapika would simply sleep briefly in the carriage the next day, as he had many things to discuss with the grand duke and his sons, then write to the king. He knew not how long it would all take, but thought it best to plan for the worst.

  
  


“Oh, cursed be this woeful day. It appears you have beaten me again, princess.” He grinned that sinister grin and leaned back, carding his empty hand through his hair, thick and in shades of pink and purple. Kurapika rolled his eyes and set the book closer to his face. Neon clapped her hands in excitement and resigned from the game, as it was her third win in a row. The passengers, knowing there was little time left before their arrival at the estate, took their time reading books, shuffling cards, reading over letters for the nth time during the trip. The princess seemed to already be head over heels with this man she had not yet met- or even  _ seen _ -so she let her own mind’s image of this mysterious prince steal her heart. It was good, in a way, because she would be married to him by week’s end. If he allowed it, his heart would ache, but there were more important things to worry about. Goals he needed to reach, things he needed to do.

The sun was just beginning to set as the carriage stopped at the gates of the Zoldyck residence. They were made of brass in an ornate, cage-adjacent pattern. Neon’s two knights exited and marched alongside them as they entered, clad handsomely in their leather padding and chain mail. As they approached the entrance, a few members of the staff waited in a line, with guards surrounding the large double doors. One came forward to open the door and bowed, swinging her hand out in front of her.

“Greetings, your highness. We are enchanted to be in your presence. Allow us to escort you to the lady of the house for your meal.”   
  


The young woman was short and dressed tightly in her white and blue uniform, shoulder pads looking almost too thick for her slender frame. Her coily hair had been fashioned into twists around her head, and she carried a staff of sorts in her left hand. One by one, they were let out of the carriage, assisted by a much taller man with neatly trimmed black hair, and a pale, raven-haired young woman. 

“Once you enter, Sir Kurta, take to the stairwell at the end of the northern corridor. You will be taken to see his grace, Grand Duke Zoldyck of Padokea.” 

Kurapika nodded, and stepped onto the gravel. The group walked in rehearsed formation. The Zoldyck staff were in a line from shortest to tallest, then the princess, with knights at her side. Then came Eliza, then the jester, then Kurapika, who was followed by another guard. The coachman was guided elsewhere, likely to a stable. 

Kurapika’s vision was limited, but he heard who he could only assume to be Lady Zoldyck, ceremoniously welcoming the princess and her cohorts, wishing them well, how she was so overjoyed to host them. Kurapika internalized his distaste for such formalities, eager instead to get to the meeting so he could hope for some rest before their morning departure.

While the others followed the formation to the dining hall, the guard behind Kurapika came to a halt and, after exchanging nods, peeled off and headed to the northern corridor. Though, when he reached the stairwell, he had expected to be met by another guard. Facing him instead was a silver haired boy, who looked up at him expectantly.

“Hello.”   
  


Kurapika just blinked. Wholly unsure of whether he should question the child’s identity or simply turn around, he just stood motionless until he spoke again. “I am my father’s youngest son. Would you happen to be Sir Kurta?” 

Kurapika breathed out, “That, I am.” The boy smiled slightly and waved his hand, gesturing for him to follow, the puffy striped sleeves and pants of his outfit bending to his movements. Against his better judgement, the blonde followed him.

This boy moved without urgency, the whole of his conduct lacked urgency, or any air of professionalism. His posture was flawed, his clothing was not fitted correctly, it laid untucked and untightened in places, but he seemed to have not a care in the world. When they arrived at what he suspected to be either a meeting room or an execution chamber, the boy pushed the large doors open effortlessly, stepping aside to let Kurapika in.

The room was rectangular and adorned with flags and paintings, with a roaring fireplace against the farthest wall and candles illuminating a round table, where three men sat expectantly. One was slender both in face and figure, with sleek black hair that cascaded down his chest and back elegantly. Another was grossly overweight, his hair seemingly slick with grease rather than a natural sheen. The third, presumably the grand duke himself, was all sharp edges and light colors, he had silver hair which danced in loose waves down past his shoulders. The three of them nodded, gesturing for Kurapika to sit down, which he did quickly, the boy hopping onto the chair adjacent to his own.

Kurapika was quickly introduced to those populating the table. The ghostly thin one, the grand duke’s eldest son, was Duke Illumi. Then, second in age came Duke Milluki, who was not at all interested in nearly anything happening. The boy was Duke Killua. That left, of course, his grace Grand Duke Silva Zoldyck. His presence was intimidating, but not quite in the way a king’s was. A voice that carried with dark and heavy syllables, an appearance that easily made one question their own strength, eyes that seemed to shoot icy darts wherever he looked. Kurapika was deeply acquainted with these feelings, though, greatly familiar with these sensations associated with a powerful demeanor, and kept his breathing steady. 

“I trust you have inquiries of your own, so please name them before we address other matters.”

Kurapika took a deep breath. “Thank you, your grace,” he began, “I first wish to be informed of the depths of your loyalties with the kingdoms of the betrothed,” the grand duke quirked an eyebrow at his words, “I am aware of the strength of your staff, but if push came to shove on a larger scale, with whom would your favor fall? What odds would you add to their victory by supplying aid? All for consideration of her highness’ safety, of course.” That was a lie. 

Duke Killua cleared his throat, waiting for Kurapika to look at him before speaking. “We quite closely aid Swardani in any way we can. Trade, military assistance, protection, et cetera. We have little affiliation with Yorkshin. If they were not at war with Swardani or threatened tarnish our bond, we would provide aid to the Zaban kingdom as well. They are not our priority.” He was sitting improperly, but it was seemingly of no bother to the others, so he pushed the thought away.

The group spoke briefly of wedding plans, and who would be attending. Only Duke Illumi and Duke Killua would be present, it seemed, but it was of no surprise, as there needed to be a figurehead present. Still, it was a large celebration, and it seemed odd that only two were attending from this household.

Once conversation circled back to Kurapika and Yorkshin, he knew this was the opportunity he’d been holding on for. The previous night, he had produced a list of groups he desired more information on, which he pulled from his book and waved in the air gently. “I would like to know of your trade and bond history with the following.” He slid the sheet of parchment across the table towards the towheaded patriarch, who passed it to his son without even looking down. 

The eldest duke read over its contents, rubbing the edges of the material with slender fingers. Deep eyes looked up from the page and stared into Kurapika’s soul. He laid down the page and spoke, words slow, with syllables sharp and articulate and almost musical despite their monotony.

“With all due respect, sir, I see not how this connects to Yorkshin’s princess. Is there perhaps an agenda of your own here?”

Kurapika’s throat went dry, but he swallowed anyway. “No, your grace, His majesty simply wishes to know if there is anything more to gain from this marriage. Your affiliations with Swarani are no secret, if arrangements can be made for you to extend your hands with these… groups and lead them to tie bonds with Yorkshin, you will be rewarded handsomely."

Duke Illumi narrowed his eyes in what appeared to be suspicion, but closed them before Kurapika could read any further. When he opened them again, he glanced at his father, exchanged a nod, and looked back. “Very well. We will reach out towards the Zaban and Kakin kingdoms and communicate with the Council of Schpinnen.”

_ Score. _

“This information is to be relayed through me before it is sent to the king, understood?” The grand duke and his sons nodded, and from there the discussion moved to Padokea and how the newly stitched webs of connection would benefit Yorkshin and, more importantly, its king. Kurapika scrawled notes down as quickly as he found possible without the writing becoming illegible, smudging ink occasionally. When the dark haired guard he’d seen earlier appeared at the door, he realized just how long they had been blathering on. Dinner was long since over, and the rest of the guests had been shown to their rooms. The grand duke thanked her and sent her on her way, swearing that Kurapika would be free to go momentarily, and he’d be served dinner in the room he would be staying in, across the hall from the princess’. 

It felt like another eternity before the candles on the table began burning out and the group was dismissed. The eldest son would show Kurapika to his room, which left him unsettled. The man’s presence was eerie, but he shoved away the thoughts in favor of focusing on what he’d be writing to the king, and how much time he’d have to rest afterwards.

Duke Illumi walked elegantly at a slow pace that still carried him quickly across the floors on his long legs. They were silent, save for the gentle crackling of the duke’s torch.

“I do hope you know… This is risky behavior, sir.”

Kurapika’s breath caught in his throat, but he kept walking, as Duke Illumi did not stop. “Whatever do you mean, your grace?”

He chuckled slightly, still not breaking form. “Lying in that way. Using your power and the feigned will of a king to get what you want. You would be hanged from the neck until dead, as it is treason. Learn your act and your audience well before you attempt anything more than you’ve done tonight, or you will be sleeping as a spirit beneath the gallows.”

“How could you possibly assume such a thing?” Kurapika had frozen in his tracks, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

The duke did not turn around, but simply shifted his torso and craned his neck to look backwards, coming to a stop. “I intend to one day inherit control of Padokea, and so I must be easily aware of people’s intentions, lest I be tricked by someone with more power than me. So, let it be said, your stoicism will not shield you from the wariness of others. You are easier to read than you believe, and it may be your downfall, Sir Kurta. That is all.” With that, he regained his stance and began walking again in silence until they reached his room, where a lit candle, bed, writing supplies and meal waited for him. He could’ve sworn he saw the jester speaking with the duke, but was too distracted to think much of it.

The duke’s words reverberated in his head as he ate the cold meal, as he wrote a letter to the king, and as he laid in a plush bed with thick covers and hefty down feather pillows. Weeks, months,  _ years  _ of thoughts toppled down upon him without mercy, and he was swept away in their maelstrom despite his best efforts. 

But things were only just beginning.

Kurapika hoped he’d have time for rest tomorrow, because he most certainly would not be able to sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so I know Karnöffel is a 4 player game and it wasn’t really popular until after this fic takes place but what is Hisoka without a deck of cards???? Nothing. I included him just to roast him ngl.  
> A few more quick things:  
> -I know a 'Royal Associate' technically isn't a real thing but I couldn't really find a real-world equivalent of what I wanted Kurapika to be. I simply made things up.  
> -Killua speaks and behaves informally because he has so much swag and is a different breed.  
> -Gon will show up eventually.  
> -Listen to classical music as you read, the vibe is simply immaculate.  
> -Kudos and comments are appreciated! Have a wonderful day B)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Princess Neon Nostrade of Yorkshin arrives at the Swardani castle, Kurapika reunites with an old friend and older memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayo yo a couple things:  
> -Melody is deaf in this!! She uses sign language and Bill is her interpreter :D I don’t really know ASL or any sign language BUT deaf representation is cool and rad and sexy and I know it doesn’t fit the time period but we can pretend folks aren’t ableists. They’re still a little homophobic though. Oh well.  
> -TW more mentions of death and hangings  
> -Cheadle is a bit OOC but it is because I'm in love with her and don't want her to be stern.
> 
> Thanks to kxrapikaz and kurapikano for generally being extremely sexy and rad, and to Gibby, who beta read this chapter.

Chilled winds of daybreak swept through orange skies, the princess and her cohorts once again on the road. Swardani was tantalizingly close now, being a mere few hours away, anticipation becoming more difficult to contain or conceal among the six travelers. Her highness was prattling on about meeting her betrothed, how she longed to finally see his face, how their wedding would be one torn directly from the spine of a fairytale. Yet, amidst the buzzing excitement, Kurapika found himself scarcely able to remain conscious. The warm morning meal settled gently in his stomach, bracing him against the cool air along with the thick sleeves of his red and black uniform, lined with gilded accents

Everyone was dressed in elegant uniform and formalwear, all to be seen and beheld by the royal family upon their afternoon arrival. Even the jester appeared to be a nobleman. The princess, though, was certainly the most breathtaking. Her dress was extravagant, rich pink and maroon fabrics assembled in a hefty skirt, layered and lined with beads and intricate lace. The sleeves were puffed and her pale chest was partially exposed by the rectangular hem, and the frilled collar of the thing was near tall enough to reach the nape of her neck. It was most certainly uncomfortable just by the looks of it, and it was the best she had, save for her wedding gown. She would repeatedly lift her hand to fuss with her hair, but was always stopped by Eliza, who’d take her hands gently and remind her of just how beautiful she looked. That stopped her for a bit, before she’d inevitably do it again. All of these things, these stimuli, were still not enough to keep Kurapika from slipping into brief lapses of slumber.

Today, they would meet the royal family. Discuss treaties and trades over dinner, watch as the betrothed interacted, sleep in what may well be their new home. Kurapika and Eliza were almost certainly going to live with her highness, whether or not the knights and jester would stay was a topic of consideration for the future. Kurapika would serve her highness and communicate with the King of Yorkshin. Eliza, upon the marriage, would be working indirectly under the King of Swardani, but Kurapika worked exclusively beneath Princess Neon Nostrade and King Light Nostrade, regardless of how the families collided.

As his busy mind attempted to keep churning, his body stubbornly refused to keep up, repeatedly coaxing him back into unconsciousness. He gave in occasionally, only to be awakened by the jostle of the carriage moments later. He’d finally fallen into a content, steady sleep when he was shaken by the princess’ shouting. 

They had nearly arrived.

Eliza was quick to remind the princess of customs and behaviors that were expected once they were within the castle walls, but anyone with half a mind knew that she wasn’t listening. Her eyes sparkled like their own little galaxies, babbling wildly in blind thrill. She had more or less waited her whole life for this. With her excitement mounting during the trip, Kurapika had to stifle a laugh imagining her reaction upon meeting the prince. 

The carriage slowed as they made their way up the hill. The castle was impressive both in size and architecture. Mostly square bases with blue roofing tiles, a few circular towers here and there, the most prominent tower located in the center, rectangular with four circular towers extending from the corners, The castle stood overlooking the homes of noblemen and sellers of fine merchandise at the hill’s base. There was a great lake surrounded by forest and wildlife, you could even see the less wealthy counties from this elevation. Kurapika wondered what it’d look like from the castle towers, but was interrupted from his thoughts by the blare of a brass horn.

The massive doors of the outer wall pulled open to reveal the courtyard and winding stone path that tucked behind the rounded edge of a tower. The princess and her accompanying party entered to fanfare and a grand meeting with knights lined up along the edge of the curved walkway. A green haired woman with large, round spectacles approached the carriage, folding her hands over her lap as Yorkshin’s accompanying knights stepped onto the path. The vehicle came to a stop, quickly being surrounded by what could only be assumed to be the castle staff, one even escorting the coachman down from his seat. They were all dressed in uniforms of black and maroon, standing stiff and upright until the ear-ringing blast of the brass horns ended.

The green haired woman extended a hand to the princess, who took it gently and proceeded to climb out of the carriage with grace, followed by Eliza, the jester, and Kurapika. The silver haired coachman stood behind them as well, adjusting his hefty blue cap. This woman, likely an associate, cleared her throat and spoke in a sweet but stern voice.

“Palace of Swardani! It is with great honor that I do announce the arrival of the Princess of Yorkshin and her accompanying party! Rejoice and prepare for a lavish celebration!” 

Applause roared from the staff. The woman turned to face the group as the staff made quick work of unloading the carriage and escorting it somewhere out of sight, carrying luggage into the castle, and generally hurrying out of sight. “It is truly magnificent to meet you all. I am Lady Cheadle Yorkshire, administrator of the house. Please, if there is anything I can do for you before the festivities begin tonight, do not hesitate to tell me! Come, now, there is business to be done in the meantime.” She bowed and smiled at each one of them, before turning on her heel and beginning to walk to the entrance. The Yorkshin knights, as well as these castle guards, circled them as they walked in formation. They passed through three sets of doors, each one slightly smaller than the last and defended by fewer guards

“You’ll be briefed on the layout of the castle, then taken to your rooms,” Cheadle explained, “everything has been prepared for you. The celebration of your arrival will begin at sundown.” Even the coachman was awestruck by the massive and gorgeous interior. Swardani was certainly wealthier than Yorkshin, with high ceilings and stone walls that shone like pearls, carved with stunning patterns.

Within the castle were a great many rooms, a not insignificant amount of which could not be viewed for various reasons. The great hall, other dining halls, ballrooms, kitchens, tea rooms, parlors, libraries, offices, art and music rooms, a gambling house, workspaces, watchtowers, staff living quarters, the throne room, the royal family’s living spaces, and the guest rooms where they would be staying. They’d be living on the second floor, windows facing west.

Neon’s room was shockingly large, with multiple connected areas. One of which would be Kurapika’s room, another going to Eliza. They weren’t surprised by this, but the idea of sharing a room with the princess for an unknowable amount of time was still less than desirable. It was of no great distress, however, as they began settling in for the remainder of the afternoon. Eliza helped the princess with her unpacking, moving dresses and accessories to the closet, Kurapika sat on the edge of his bed and stared at his notes absently. There was only a bed, a small table, chair, and an armoire in the room, just enough to suit his needs without making him feel welcome. Inside one of the higher cupboards was plenty of pens and ink, candles and sealing wax. He took his time putting his uniforms away, one by one, unsure of exactly what to do next.

Despite having pages and pages of notes detailing his duties, he hadn’t anticipated having this much free time. He tucked away the notes, deciding to go for a stroll in the meantime, get a better feel for this castle. Talk to some of the castle staff, look for Melody and Bill, perhaps.

This level of elevation would take some getting used to. The Nostrade’s castle was lower to the ground, but covered more land. This castle was tall as well as wide, and being atop a hill only added to the slight vertigo he was facing each time he passed a window. He was alone in these corridors, except for the occasional guard, and Kurapika was, descending the stairs in silence with only the echoes of his own steps and the faint hum of nature to accompany him. He was headed past a library when a mindless glance caught a glimpse of Lady Cheadle. He took a step back and entered the large room, Cheadle bent at the hip to peer at books on a lower shelf.

“Lady Cheadle? It is a pleasure to see you again. Would I be too much a bother to ask you for a brief favor?”

She turned around to face him, a bit surprised but elegant nonetheless. She rose from her bent position and smiled, waving a gloved hand at Kurapika. “Sir Kurta, you needn’t address me with such formality. We are of equal authority in positions, are we not?” She pushed up her glasses and Kurapika grinned.

“Oh, no not at all, my lady,” Cheadle raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “I’m more of a glorified guard and communicator, you see. my duties fall between that of a knight and a lady in waiting. Ii stay by her side at most times, but Ii’m also expected to attend on her behalf if she wishes, to carry messages, and to inform her of whatever may be happening. Eliza behaves more as a friend and companion to her highness. I am nowhere near the grace of your position.”

Cheadle smiled and once again adjusted her glasses. “Regardless, you treat me as if I will hang you for any incident. There is no need, even with the king and queen. You are not a commoner, we are not uncompromising. If you step out of line, there will be punishment, but we will not swing the sword because you failed to address us in the most formal way.” 

Kurapika bowed gently, whispering a _‘thank you.’_ They stared at each other for a moment.

“So, Sir Kurta, what was the favor you had to ask of me?”

Kurapika let out a breath then. “I wished to know where Miss Melody and her interpreter may be. It has been far too long since I've last seen them, I would like to meet with them while I have some unoccupied time.” 

Cheadle pressed a finger to her chin for a moment, then nodded. “Melody will certainly be in a tea room near the northern tower. I may escort you there, if you’d like.”

Kurapika simply shook his head, then bowed. “I am sure I will find my way. Thank you kindly, Lady Cheadle.” She once again pushed up her spectacles. 

“Good day, Sir Kurta.” The blonde turned on his heel and left as Cheadle resumed her work. 

The northern tower was easy enough to find, though it took him a bit longer to get there than he’d expected. This _was_ a large castle. Though, the long walk gave him a chance to see the sun on the lake as he passed by the windows. ‘Tea rooms,’ he thought, ‘are so cruelly misnamed.’ To his own-, albeit fairly limited - knowledge, tea rooms were merely more comfortable areas for discussion and negotiation. A roundtable, or conference room, for the most tight knit to rub elbows, or for very small groups to conspire under the face of a conversation shared over tea.

When he rounded the corner, he saw two knights escorting a young man from the tea room, the door closing behind them. Kurapika stood still for a moment, then pushed it open. He didn’t knock, he had assumed it was empty after that person had left, but he was wrong. He peered in to see nothing too unfamiliar for a parlor or tea room. Plush seats and furnishings of dark wood, candles, and a tea set seated in the middle of an end table. But the two people seated on a lovely couch drew the most attention.

  
  


“Melody! Bill!” Melody couldn’t hear him, but he did not care.

Bill turned, taking a moment to comprehend what was happening, and then beamed, gently touching melody on the shoulder. They both stood up, Melody setting down her tea. Kurapika hurried over to them in a nearly elated state, exchanging a nod with Bill and then looking at Melody.

She waved at him, spelled K-U-R-A-P-I-K-A with her small hands, wearing a bright smile on her face, then reached out to shake his hand. He quickly obliged, then pulled back and spoke, signing as he did so. “It is so wonderful to see you again, Melody,” her name was signed as the letter ‘m’ swung over the palm, similarly to the sign for music, “and you as well, Bill.” Bill’s name was simply B-I-L-L.

Melody had been sent to Swardani to scout and discuss the marriage, as well as do some under-the-table work for Kurapika. They had a hefty amount of catching up to do after months of absence from each other’s lives, save for their occasional ‘business’ letters. Melody had no sense of sound;, she couldn’t hear much, if at all. There was an accident in her youth that took it away from her. She was short and round and somewhat odd-looking, but she was damn smart and everyone around her knew it. Working in political positions was never her intention, but it must have been the will of a god, as she was an utter mastermind. Without the ability to hear or use spoken language, the Nostrade royal family hired Bill, fluent in the sign language Melody used to communicate, to be a sort of translator. They were a great team, and in the years of working together, Kurapika had gotten pretty good at using signs as well.

He was granted the opportunity to experience her musical ability, as well. She had been a prodigy, living within the sounds of her songs for her whole life up until her injury. Even now, with so little ability to understand music in the way others are accustomed to, she can _feel_ the vibrations, she had unlocked another level of immersion, and played heart-wrenching strings of notes flawlessly despite her circumstances.

She had been the one to assure Yorkshin would reap generous benefits upon the princess’ marriage, making huge and dangerous wagers when she had so little to bet with, and pulling through. She was a beast of divine design, and Kurapika was _beyond_ thankful that he’d never be on the wrong side of her prowess. Melody was truly one of a kind.

The conversation was pleasant. Kurapika could understand her signs, but Bill continued to do his job, giving a voice to her words. They had a conversation over the more important staff members that Kurapika would find in his favor to know. Hanzo, captain of the knights and the guard, Zepile the treasurer, Saccho the stableman, Mizai, who was essentially in charge of the staff, and Lady Cheadle, of course. They discussed the wedding, the ball that would be held, and the kingdom’s connection with certain groups.

Bill excused himself from the conversation in the tea room a short while after. “I’ll let you get to private matters,” he had said, “You are without need of my aid.” He was right. Kurapika wasn’t exactly fluent in Melody’s language of gestures, but he knew enough to ‘speak,’ and to understand. So, alone with his dear friend and colleague, Kurapika asked about his biggest concern.

‘The prince?’

‘What about the prince?’

‘What can you tell me?’

Melody thought for a moment, then nodded.

‘Hot headed, but kind. Brash, and considerate. Good king? I do not know. Maybe one day. Good husband for the princess? Yes, when he controls himself. Handsome, too.’

Kurapika sank into his chair, grinning. ‘Best hold your words, not speak of his beauty, it would be unwise to tempt me.’ Melody laughed at that, out loud. He’d missed this, talking with Melody and having no reason to borrow worry from the world around him. For what felt like forever, he sat with his eyes closed and let the sunlight coming through the windows dance across his fair skin, relishing this moment when he did not need to care about anything besides the presence of his dear friend. But this presumption of repose was ripped from him when he opened his eyes again to Melody meeting him with a sober gaze. His eyes moved to her hands as she formed the word,

‘Spiders.’

He straightened immediately, attentive and silently mourning the loss of serenity.

‘S-C-H-P-I-N-N-E-N?’ Kurapika’s eyes went impossibly wide, and Melody nodded.

‘More information, dangerous to put in letters.’ Kurapika looked around quickly before holding up a finger, urging Melody to wait. He rose from the seat and quietly pulled the wooden door shut until it would no longer move toward him, then hurriedly making his way back, signing ‘Continue.’

The Council of Schpinnen was a powerful government entity that served no one in particular. A group of men and women in high society with no public face and no clear motive. They were loyal to no one, simply working with whomever would bring forth the largest earnings, arranging trades, buying and selling land, being negotiators, dealing weapons in times of war, sometimes working for both sides of a battle. A war could start and end with a wave of the council’s collective hand in a display of corrupt puppetry. Few knew of their existence, fewer knew of their capabilities, a fraction of a fraction had ever faced them, had ever been exposed to their true nature.

Corrupt agents of chaos, spurring disputes as small as business competition, and as large as wars between empires. Taking innocent lives for profit, for pleasure. They were sick and twisted, and Kurapika wished nothing more than to bring them justice.

Melody informed him of recent interactions between the council and neighboring nations, the king and queen’s willingness to work with them, interruptions of trade that seemed to trace back to the council, and worst of all, a horror story of a murdered family by the hands of a man adorned by a cloak bearing spiders. He became tense, clenched his fists tighter and tighter until his fingernails left cuts in the skin, and then some.

‘I need to write some things down.’ He left Melody in the tea room without another word. Rage pooled to the marrow of his bones, he felt as if he’d be lit ablaze by the swirling pit of emotion within him. 

The notes he took in his room were cluttered, disorganized, nearly illegible thanks to his shaking hands. He needed to rest, he so desperately needed to rest. Haphazardly removing the outer layers of his clothing, he flung himself into bed, desperately wishing for slumber to take him.

When it did, he was trapped in a recollection of truly terrible memories, repeating and distorting over and over, as dreams do, plunging him deep into traumatic events that he could not escape… not until he bolted upright in bed, sweating and trembling. Breath escaped his lungs in hoarse, sharp wheezes, head swimming and leaving him unsure where he was, or what was real. Nightmares like this had plagued him for _years,_ but seemed to have left him recently, until now, likely brought on by his conversation. Once he’d succeeded in grounding himself, he realized he had slept quite a long time, as evidenced by the blinding red sun preparing to sink below the lake outside. Dinner would begin soon, the festivities grand. He needed to get ready for a life changing experience.

Yet, he wished not to attend the feast, or the celebrations. He had well and truly lost his appetite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bangs out 2 3k word chapters in a week* teehee  
> Apologies for the end of this (the bit about him dreaming n such,) being so rushed and insane, I really wanted to finish it before I went to bed and it didn't sound terrible so i decided to roll with what I had. Yum yum.
> 
> You can follow me on instagram, @/shm00ms, i do art and post silly things on my story, my commissions are opening soon too. Or you could just chat with me, I think that'd be neat :>
> 
> Have a good day!!!!11!111!!1!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika and the princess attend the grand dinner scheduled, see familiar faces and meet new ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I was in the psych ward for a whole week and that didn’t give me much time to work. I did spend most of my free time screaming internally about gay little leopika guys yeehee  
> TW, internal discussions of forced marriage, child marriage, implications of s*xual ab*se (that last one is a blink and you’ll miss it kind of thing, but i thought i’d make a note of it.) also consumption of wine/alcohol

Neon and the prince had not yet met each other. They would not even see each other until tonight’s dinner. They would sit on opposite ends of the table and be forced to stare at each other from a distance. She was being dressed for the meal, Eliza tightening up the gown and brushing back any stray hairs that had fallen out of place along the course of the day. Kurapika stood at attention next to the door, watching mindlessly, the princess’ excited chatter and whines of discomfort flying over his head. Absently, he rubbed his thumbs over the sore spots on his palms where nails had pressed so deeply into them. He had more or less managed to quell his boiling fury, which left a hollow feeling in his chest in its wake. It didn’t matter, it did not matter. There were more important issues than his personal turmoil.

Eliza had donned a simple dress, pale pink and shapeless and perhaps a bit too short to reach the ankles of her long legs. Kurapika wore a modification of his uniform, with a ruffled shirt and jacket that cut off at the waist, shoulder pads wider and all of the details made to be more fanciful for occasions like these. The princess was dressed in the gown she’d worn when she arrived, though gloves and lace and jewelry had been added to the outfit to pretty her up just a bit more.

One of their knights met them outside of the princess’ room, along with a knight of the castle whom they did not recognize. She was absent from the entrance when they had arrived. Short, blonde, and likely very muscular underneath her dyed leather padding. She almost looked like a young child, though the emblem of knighthood had been branded into the chest piece. Once she had looked each of the guests up and down with an accusatory glare, she snapped her eyes shut, nose pointed upwards, standing at attention.

“Her highness will stand behind me,” her voice really was that of a childs, “Sir Squala behind her, cohorts on either side. No time to waste.” 

This knight took short steps, short legs only being able to carry one so far, Neon noticeably trembling with growing excitement behind her. Kurapika’s fists were still closed tight and his posture tense, more than what was typical for him, at least. Eliza shot him a glance over the princess’ shoulder, nodding at him with those kind eyes. Yes, yes, thank you, that provided him a bit of relief. As little as he had spoken with Eliza over the years, she had proven herself a truly kind soul, with true and unsullied love for both the princess and her own colleagues. Kurapika knew she was involved with Sir Squala romantically, they would use every opportunity to see each other, and the gaze in their eyes when speaking to one another left nothing to the imagination, but unlike most facets of romance and similar labors, he found it charming.

What he would certainly not find charming was how the betrothed would conduct themselves, with no true respect or adoration beneath surface level attraction they may or may not experience. It was one of many things that he found disgusting about the nature of government; treating children like goods to be sold off for a parent’s gain. Loveless marriage, young women forced to bear children with little to no autonomy. Not only was this an occurrence between monarchies, but between nobles, even commoners, selling off their children to be wed. It made him sick, and he shoved away the thought in favor of something more simple, he quickly began counting the stairs as they walked down. It wasn’t like he cared deeply for Neon, anyway.

The smells wafting out from the dining hall were near intoxicating, chatter from the dinners attendees spilling out into the corridor, and the blonde knight came to an abrupt stop near the large doorway, the princess almost running into her hardly a moment later. Cheadle was waiting just inside, and she leaned out from the stone entrance to speak under her breath.

“Hello, Dame Biscuit. The king and queen are inside already, her highness is next, I will introduce her, as well as Sir Kurta. The lady and the knight will have to wait before following.” After exchanging a nod, she dipped back in and cleared her throat.

“I have an announcement, our guests have arrived at last. Please welcome her highness, Princess Neon Nostrade of Yorkshin, and her associate.”

There was an uproar within, the blonde knight, Dame Biscuit, stepping aside to let Neon and Kurapika in, but staying close by her side. The king and queen stood at their seats, waiting to greet them, and Kurapika’s stomach tied up in knots. He was slightly behind the princess, as was expected, approaching the leaders of the land with unease. The king was tall and generous in build, dark coily hair spilling out over his head, and spoke with a low rasp in his voice, greeting the guests. The queen was slender but of average height, with olive skin and long brown hair that was draped over her chest like flat curtains, styled in an elaborate woven bun in the back. They blessed each of them with pleasantries, praise, kindness and excitement, and Dame Biscuit guided them to their seats quickly after the ‘conversation’ ended. 

Eliza and Squala had since entered and taken their seats at the table, Kurapika settling into his own plush dining chair adjacent to Neon’s, staff members pushing their chairs in for them soon after. He was close to Melody and Bill, which was nice. Perhaps they’d get to talk. They were surrounded by other castle staff members, even the jester and coachman were there, albeit on the further end of the table, away from the king and queen.

The dining hall, one of the smaller available, had one large table that could seat fifty, along with the monarchs. There was a roaring fireplace against the back wall, beautiful candle arrangements on the lace tablecloth, all of the dishes still covered in their cloches, cups all standing empty. They were waiting for someone. The prince, it had to be. There were three empty seats across from where they sat, towards the head of the table, and he suspected them to be for the prince and two guards. Amongst his thinking, he caught Melodys gaze, watching her sign ‘are you okay?’ discreetly from across the table. He nodded plainly and averted his eyes to Neon’s worrying hands, wringing and folding over themselves. He reached out his own shaking hand to grasp one of hers, offering a weak smile as comfort, as Eliza seemed to be preoccupied with lover’s banter. The princess let out a heavy breath and grinned back, smoothing the fabric in her lap once Kurapika released her hand. He knew a few things about comfort that he’d learned and mostly forgotten from youth, the greater sum of them coming from his time working for the Nostrade royal family.

“Are you nervous, your highness?” the monotony in his voice made him wince as the words tumbled out, Neon didn’t seem to notice. The nod she gave was hurried and shallow, almost like she was attempting to hide it.

“I feel I might faint, sir.” she spoke behind her hand with a smile, voice even despite her excited shaking. Her words were embellished to make a point, but Kurapika understood exactly what she had meant, he felt it, too. He wasn’t quite sure why, though, and was provided no time to speculate, shaken by Cheadle’s voice as it boomed through the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for his royal highness, crown prince Leorio Paladiknight of Swardani.”

There was the loud shifting of chairs against the floor and rustling fabric as the attendees stood. Kurapika made an internal note, that Swardani would rise for their prince, but not their guests. Time seemed to slow down, with everyone holding their breath. Neon was already flushed red and trembling in her excitement, mouth slightly agape. A single guard entered, agonizingly easy in movement, donned in similar embossed leather to that of Dame Biscuit. Then, a second guard entered, leaving a space between them, silent.

That was when he appeared.

Melody was not kidding when she had said he was handsome. 

Skin the color of saddle-tanned leather was illuminated elegantly by the fireplace and flickering candlelight, raven hair resting gently atop his head, swept backwards. He was tall, and broad shouldered, dark eyed and devilishly handsome, and Neon was most certainly lucky to be marrying him. 

The hall erupted in cheers, greetings, but the noise swam around his head, breath stuttering in the back of his throat. Neon’s sound of excitement was lost among the noise, as was the prince’s greetings as he bowed before his parents and made way to the table. He’d nearly forgotten to sit back down.

With his guards, the prince sat across the table from Neon, settling elegantly in the plush dining chair with a wide, tooth bearing smile. As his senses returned to him, slowly, the princess’ nervousness became more and more apparent, but the prince spoke in long, confident streams, as if his bride-to-be wasn’t shaking like the world was crashing down around her. Kurapika, always wide-eyed to suspicion, scanned the young man from across the table bestrewn with comestibles and decorative ornamentation. 

The hair along his jawline was precisely trimmed and styled, short and clinging to the skin, tapering away just below the corners of his mouth, which never seemed to stop moving. There were moles strayed across his face, flat and not difficult to see from afar, perhaps they could simply be freckles that had grown much darker than the others. If there  _ were  _ any others, because Kurapika was not fortunate enough to be close enough to see them. 

Kurapika was calm, reserved, trained to expect the unexpected, yet he nearly leapt from his seat when a hand reached out to him, a hand that connected to an arm that connected to the prince, thoughts coming back together as his gaze travelled up the sleeve. He was quick to extend his own hand, force of habit, and brush their fingertips together in greeting, desperately willing the conversation he’d missed to come back to him. It was of no use, he’d swallow his pride.

“I’m afraid I didn’t hear you, your highness, my apologies.” He just grinned at that, drawing back his hand.

“Your, eh, name, sir, is what I’ve asked. You are certainly not a citizen, being seated aside a princess, I am... intrigued by your presence.”

“You flatter me, your highness. I am no more than an associate to the princess.” he folded his hands on the edge of the table, noting how they trembled despite his obvious composure. The prince leaned back, exhaling through his nose. “What a travesty that you were born without a name, sir.” He grinned, one eye open to look for a reaction.   
“Sir Kurta.”

“Huh. Is that so?”

“The ambiguity of your words leave me no room to speak, your highness.”

“Oh, no, no. You misunderstand. I know of you, I have heard the name, I simply did not expect your face to carry that name.”

Kurapika shifted in his chair, brows twitching slightly downward. Without doubt, the prince had expected a large and powerful right hand to the princess, and was confused when he was met with the thin frame and soft features that he bore to the world. It had happened before, it was no surprise. Silence lingered in the air for only a moment, the prince’s eyes dancing across Kurapika’s figure, until another voice caught the prince’s attention, and Kurapika sighed in relief as the eyes diverted away from him, poking at servings on his plate absently with a thin fork.

The feast was immense, soups and stews and sweet breads, baskets of fresh fruits, vegetables glazed with fragrant sauces and baked into large cuts of meat or delicately arranged on platters. Wines, juices, freshwater, all of it served with gorgeous dishware. But Kurapika couldn’t bring himself to eat much, not with that building feeling in the pit of his stomach, thus he resorted to simply bringing the earthy taste of rich red wine to his lips as a substitute, delving into his own thoughts. There was comfort in his own mind, and he certainly needed it right now.

Anxiety, he decided, was the cause of that unpleasant thrum deep within himself. Concern for the future nature of his employment and the events that would transpire across the next few weeks, the lingering anger brought upon by his earlier conversation. Yes, that was most certainly the germ of this building sensation.

As staff members hurried around to collect empty plates and refill glasses, the conversation showed no signs of stopping, as soon as one stopped talking, someone else would fill that space in the air, excitement and intrigue and questions they could not answer for one reason or another. Some were confidential, some had no answer, some fell upon deaf ears as the betrothed truly did not know what they were being asked about.

Upon a question of an heir to the throne, Neon jumped back slightly, turning a hot red and tucking some flyaway hairs back into place, if only a way to avoid looking the prince in the eye. The prince tossed his head back, his own dark hair coming out of place, but he didn’t bother to move it back. Laughing, at such an out of place remark for a couple not even married, let alone ruling and in need of an heir. Laughing, albeit nervously. Laughing and constantly looking back at him. Melody had expressed her uncertainty of his capabilities to be the king, he now understood why. He was charismatic, certainly, confident in his speaking, but that masked an immaturity, an ineloquence. Perhaps an anxiety. Regardless of what the mask was meant to hide, it was glaringly obvious, he was too easy to read, Kurapika’s trust in personal plans beginning to falter within him. No, no. They’d need to speak alone for him to truly discern the nature of his behaviors, learn how he could use them to his advantage. Even then, he may not let his guard down simply because Kurapika was the only one in the room. Still, it would not hurt to attempt it, so he spoke Bill’s name, albeit louder than he had intended, wanting to speak to Melody.

‘I want to speak to the prince alone. C-H-E-A-D-L-E will likely listen to you. Make it your idea, not mine’

‘Why?’

‘Business matters. Personal matters.’

Melody broke into a smile, reaching for a cloth napkin to dab at the corners of her mouth, setting it gently back on the table before resuming their conversation.

‘I will try, for you, but I can not promise.’

‘Thank you, Melody.’

Kurapika then gazed down into his wine glass, picking it up to swirl around the tiny pool of liquid and fibers, then sipping down the last of his second, maybe third glass. Through his barely bleary eyes he saw Melody, or more accurately, Bill speaking to Cheadle, relaying the conversation between hands and mouths. So rarely did he indulge himself in wines and spirits, and each time he succumbed he was reminded of why that was the case, the warm, vertiginous sensations making themselves quite at home in his body. As Cheadle approached him, arms crossed against her back, Kurapika laughed to himself and felt a slight rush of dizziness when he turned to look her in the eyes. “Sir Kurta, Melody has requested that you speak to his highness alone on matters concerning the princess once dinner has finished. His guards and Dame Biscuit will escort you to a private room and wait outside, then you will be escorted to your suite. Do you concur with this arrangement?” All he could do was nod rapidly, seeming to rattle his brain in the process.

Dinner passed without incident, candles burning to the base of the wick and drowning, fizzling away in the wax shroud that pooled around them. Clattering plates and silverware slowed to a stop and sentences were punctuated with yawns that rung out even louder with the diminishing conversation. Kurapika had hardly noticed the prince stealing glances from across the table, fiddling with his hands, what with the warm and somewhat sleepy blanket he’d casted over himself. He had hardly finished 3 glasses of that wine, it would not affect his upcoming interaction with the prince whatsoever. Thus, when prompted, he rose quite unceremoniously from his seat, watching as the princess was guided away into the hall. He laughed silently to himself when Dame Biscuit stood at attention at his side, waiting for the prince’s guards to escort him out first. The king and queen had yet to leave, they would be last to depart once Kurapika had left the hall. He was going to do well, surely.

It was dark out now, strikingly so. It had not felt like a long attendance, but summer was bleeding into autumn now, and nightfall did tend to rise in earlier hours. The dame held a burning torch in her gloved hand, leaving a generous distance to the prince as they made their way down a narrowing corridor lined with empty windows and more intricate cuts of stone forming their arches. Cold air brushed over Kurapika’s ears and face whenever he’d pass another outward opening, enough to pinch his face into a redder tone than he’d already been cursed with at fault of that impossibly rich wine, he stumbled over sentences and numbers and figures and concepts in his mind, a voice willing his senses to return to him echoing somewhere deep inside the honey sweet and warm and pleasuring tiredness that now coated his head, sticking in his throat.

The dame fell to a sudden halt, as she seemed to do often, turning on her heel and gesturing for Kurapika to enter the room they stood before. Someone had just lit candles in there, they burned fresh from the very tips of thread with a gentle glow. He was unaware of how long he’d been lingering outside until the dame cleared her throat, leading him to frantically look behind him and stumble into the room, where the prince waited with his back to the door. Once Kurapika was inside, the door closed with an unpleasant groan of wood against stone, the door begging to be lifted from its sagging state. His bones were going to drop from their sockets and clatter against the ground. 

Once the latch clicked into place, the prince, fidgeting, spun around with both eyebrows raised and a careless posture that reinforced Kurapikas internal notions of his unprofessionalism. “You wished to speak with me, sir?” Kurapika swallowed, alcohol still stinging somewhere in his mouth. So, Melody hadn’t disguised this ‘plan’ as her own. He couldn’t find himself to care, he’d nearly forgotten why he wanted to meet with him in the first place. The night was long and it passed in the blink of an eye, now he was faced with an opportunity that he couldn’t pass up, but what  _ was  _ it?

“We have not yet met formally, your highness,” words spilled from his mouth without thought as he stalled for time, slurring slightly, but still maintaining an image of composure, “Kurapika Kurta, knight and associate to the royal Nostrade family of the kingdom of Yorkshin.” A hand extended, still indented with small crescent shapes, to meet the prince’s. Those dark eyes darted between his extended hand and expectant face before realization struck, hurriedly reaching out with this own hand. This time there was a handshake, firm, rushed, and for lack of a better word,  _ unfriendly _ . Business, it was business.

“Is that all you wanted, Sir Kurta? Or are you here for another reason? There was no need to drag me all the way out here just to-” Kurapika rose up on the balls of his feet, shrinking the difference in their heights just a bit.

“Do you always… b-behave this way?”

His dark brows twitched, he swallowed.

“I beg your pardon?”

Kurapika snorted. “I have never seen royalty behave in such an… unbecoming manner. You are to become, uhm, king one day, yes?” the prince nodded, Kurapika hardly even took a full breath before speaking again in slow, dragging sentences, “Your irresponsibility, your carelessness, even at something as…  _ simple  _ as a banquet, you cannot act p-properly.” He sunk back down to flat feet, crossing his arms and looking up at the prince with an attempt of a smug face. The tall man in front of him pressed his lips into a thin line, brows dropping to crease the skin around them. “You would do right to show me some respect sir, you will be under my employ before you know it, and I will not hesitate to dismiss you.” Kurapika laughed, loud and shameless. “I will be under the employ of the king and the princess, you have no power, your highness.” That unhappy face turned into a scowl of sorts, shifting positions to face away from the blonde. He let out a few stuttered consonants, as if the words were being choked off in his throat. “If you take issue with my behavior, you are welcome to  _ leave  _ at any time.”

“I only want the best for the princess.” A lie.

“She seems to have taken a liking to me already.” a truth.

“Because of your position and your appearance, nothing more.”

“ _ Appearance _ , you say?” The prince’s face curled into a smirk

“Don’t let it go to your head.” When Kurapika looked back and forth, his head spun slightly. He laughed, he straightened his uniform, he brushed hair out of his face and he had no idea what to do at this moment.

“So, sir, am I free to go? Did you come only to give me a motherly lecture?”

Kurapika cleared his throat, scrambling to tie the loose strands of his conscience back together. “I will be going… I will be attending a m-m-meeting alongside you and the princess tomorrow, I… expect better. From you. Do not disappoint me.”

With that, the prince huffed and they both headed for the door, getting crammed trying to reach the handle. Kurapika was lightheaded and in high spirit, contrary to his presentation, the wine had well and truly made its way into his blood and beating heart. He had accomplished nothing, and the morning would greet him unkindly in repose for his actions and indulgence. No matter, power has been established. A poorly behaved prince makes a weak king, a weak king may threaten his plans, if he could get him into shape somehow, or exploit this for his benefit... Yes, yes, that would do nicely. How would he do this? Kurapika had not even the spark of an idea.

The prince and his guards peeled off into a separate hallway somewhere along their merry way, leaving near silence to crowd minds as Dame Biscuit led the blonde back to his room, echoes of feet on stone and the crackling torch and the wind that found its way in through some intriguing force of nature. He did not want to sleep, something deep within him willed him to stay awake. Logic? The conscious mind that had escaped into empty glasses? In trying to reason out these concepts, Kurapika barely managed to get into his room and out of his overclothes before succumbing to an ever-beckoning, honey heavy blanket of slumber. He would worry in the morning, if the sun did, indeed, rise again. After all, one could never be certain of a promise of tomorrow. One could never be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noooooooooo dont drink urself under the table kurapika ur so dignified ahaha. chapter 4 is already partially written, so i will actually update within the next decade i guess :D  
> ngl i weep reading comments i kiss u all i care u all thank u for feeding my non existent ego <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii im back <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for descriptions of hangovers, descriptions of discomfort with the process of consuming food/general mentions of eating and foodstuffs, nothing super strong but there is a scene describing how food feels in someones mouth so if u are uncomfy w that i've underlined where the badness starts and where it ends, as well as kurapika ch//king on waer, I underlined those too and put TWs in brackets. Enjoy!!!!!!!!!! :D

The sun rose in the morning. As it always did, always would. Kurapika was facing a situation so rare, so uncommon, he was sure he was still dreaming. But no, the pounding aches in his head and muscles, the dryness in his mouth, trembling hands, the memories swimming back to him, all very real, all the fallout of indulgence. Lingering crapulence, he cursed his own hands and mind, they’d brought him here, formed irrational concepts, struck a stake through the heart of his path. He could fix it, of course, but the things he’d said to the prince, the method of his conduction...

The ice beneath him was slowly thinning, and he would have to tread carefully for some time now.

It was quite like him to demand additional time with a person in order to read further beneath the prose of their surface level presentation, between the lines, the scribbles in the margins. It was the curiosity of human nature, it was his perfectionism and need for things to go his way, but a miscalculation under the thrall of expensive wine could throw him to the wolves. Hopefully it would be written off in the prince’s mind. He had at least gained some information, how he acted when alone, how he acted in the public eye, Kurapika’s mind constantly echoed with “how might I use this to my advantage”? Gears churned in his aching head, and he desperately attempted to shelf, to push away the gentle reverberation of a desire to know more. Pointless, he thought.

He had not realized how long he had been sitting on his bed, lost in thought, until he could hear Eliza and the princess chattering in the next room. There were indentations on his skin that had been laid by the pressing of fabric, as he hadn’t stripped himself of his daily attire before falling to sleep. He contemplated for a moment if he would be able to get away with simply putting on his overclothes without removing this wrinkled and sweaty undershirt. No, of course he wouldn’t. So he took to hurriedly peeling off the fabric, not even knowing how late in the day it was, but he rushed into uniform as if there was no time at all to be through with it. Yes, he looked a bit unkempt. But an imperfect appearance was less scorned than tardiness in his position.

There was no need for the rush, it seemed, because Neon and Eliza were simply talking by the bedside, turning to quizzically stare at Kurapika when he pulled open the door. Then Eliza smiled, and the princess waved.

“We were beginning to worry, Sir,” Eliza hummed, “Your breakfast is cooling, it was so splendid, we did not want you to eat a cold meal.”

Surely enough, there was a plate of food atop a small cart, another layer holding the, presumably used, dishes. ‘ _ Breakfast in bed,’  _ he thought.  _ ‘No grand assembly.’  _ It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he was just unaccustomed to having his food delivered, having to eat every meal in the dining hall, or quickly choke down his rations of leftover ingredients as he made his way from place to place, no time to enjoy a meal. He was always busy, and though it was pleasant to have a moment to catch his breath, the lack of work stirred up conflict within him. It did not matter now, as he gently took his meal and utensils, returning to his room without a word. 

To call it a  _ ‘room’  _ was generous. It was an offset chamber of the princess’s temporary living space. Not much different from what he was used to. There was not a desk, just a single chair, so he made do by eating from his lap. Undignified, but tolerable. The food would certainly help with the lingering effects of his wine, even if he didn’t feel hungry. 

The day would, again, be fairly uneventful. Kurapika had yet to be prompted on his full schedule, but he expected light work if the previous day was anything to go by. He knew that he could not grow familiar with this type of leisure; he had grown to live as a busy man, and he would become restless without assignments, usually retreating to mindless, self indulging activities. The previous night was only a shred of what was to come if he did not find some self control. 

[TW- food]

So, Kurapika ate. The sound of silverware scraping his plate made him wince, one of the few things that could truly drive him mad was that kind of sound. That, and arrogance. The food, thick slices of bread and slivers of fruit with some sort of sugary topping, felt heavy, sticky and strangely dry in his mouth, seeming to tear at his throat as he swallowed it down like the phlegm of a cold, shuddering each time. It tasted good, albeit a bit too sweet, but he could not stop the mouthfuls from feeling unwelcome in his body. The blonde nearly took down his entire glass of water in a single swallow, tilting his chin up to chase away the feeling of something in his throat, then was abruptly met by the intrusion of liquid in his windpipe.

[TW- choking]

The glass nearly slipped from his hand as his body curled forward into his abdomen of its own volition, coughing and sputtering, water landing on the stone floor and his elegant white top. The moment he was aware of what was happening, he pounded a fist into his chest, keeping his mouth closed and coughing into the back of his throat. His eyes watered, his chest trembled, only for a moment before he was able to restore his own composure. A good recovery, he thought. That accomplishment was torn from him, though, as he nearly dropped the glass again when the door swung open, Eliza standing with her eyes blown open and a sort of panicked hurry painting her form.

“Sir Kurta, are you quite alright?” there was a tremor there, just barely, her nerves were certainly pulled taught with the ever nearing wedding. Kurapika waved his hand in the air absently. 

“I find that I am quite able to take care of myself, miss.” He shuddered again, cleared his throat again, letting out a heavy breath as he wiped dampness away from his mouth. Eliza, too, exhaled heavily, expression softening as Kurapika gripped his dishes and rose from his chair. Walking made him dizzy;he nearly tripped over his own feet more than once when he moved to lay his dishes on the cart with soft clatters that, somehow, felt much too loud.

Cheadle arrived not long after Kurapika had finished eating, to pull him into the hall for a briefing of sorts. There’d be nearly an hour of his own freedom before he was to confer with Melody, then bring the princess and Eliza to speak to planners about the wedding, then there was tea in the courtyard; a meeting between the prince, the princess, Cheadle, and himself. Discuss things that needed to be discussed, let the betrothed interact without a room swimming with expectant eyes looking upon them. Lunch with a jester’s entertainment, then there was a meeting with staff that he had not been acquainted with. Taking notes from the guards and ‘the ladies’ for his report to the king, arrange a ride to town for the princess for the next day, then dinner, a smaller one than the night before, after which he’d speak with the officiant of the wedding. What he did in between these was at his own will.

He hadn’t taken notice of the sun’s position, but there was plenty of time in the day, Kurapika was confident. This was nothing compared to the daily onslaught of tasks he’d been met with in Yorkshin, and it would be  _ significantly  _ less strenuous, all of them quick work. There was no need for him to heave Neon’s belongings around, no mind-numbing mathematics, no transcriptions of conversations, no classes to attend with the princess. His brain may be trudging behind a bit, yet that could not stop him. It was all talk today. Take small notes, take in information, take a damned break from the weight of his duties. They were still guests. He had plenty of time to work for himself. Splendid. He took this hour to continue familiarizing himself with the layout of the castle. He knew where to find Melody, the location of the library, where studies or tea rooms were, and how to recognize the wing you were in. He still had much to learn, though; classrooms, staff housing, other ‘processing’ rooms reserved for the inner workings of the castle, the areas where the royalty resided, he didn’t know what was in those gorgeous towers, either. His footsteps echoed around him, quick pace not allowing him to outrun the reverberating sounds. The low light dancing on stone walls and his nimble shadow repeatedly intruded upon his thoughts, the looming fear of attackers clinging to every fold of Kurapika’s brain despite his impression of security.

The blonde repeatedly reminded himself, though unintentionally, of the mere scale of the structure in comparison to the palace in Yorkshin that he had grown so accustomed to. The idea of  _ this  _ place being his home was still sinking in, not quite able to grasp at reality in his crosshairs of self fulfillment. The architecture, assembly, layout, and even the very basic design of the place was so unfamiliar, so convoluted, he thought. Unnecessary corridors that could easily be used as a room space, wildly inefficient setups that certainly made life a living hell for anyone attempting to navigate on their own, and he grew to acknowledge a deep respect for the staff that ran amuck within these walls with their daily schedules. 

Kurapika stilled at the base of a twisting stairwell, one that led to one of the impressive towers, with a gorgeous, delicately crafted rug sprawling outward from the bottom step. He crossed his arms behind his back, craned his neck to look at the hall behind him. The blonde huffed out a breath, little concern for permission to enter, as he’d been told he was free to roam the halls. He stepped forward, a calloused hand sliding up against the worn wooden railing as he made his way towards the higher floor of the tower. He could smell candle wax burning thick in the air, see daylight through small windows in the curved stone, hear spoken words echoing above. Spoken words that were muffled into incoherent but recognizable noise. Spoken word in two familiar voices.

Kurapika froze, one was certainly Bill, which meant Melody was there as well. That was a relief, he’d be able to kill two birds with one stone. Or rather, stone a bird early to buy more time for oneself. Though, he couldn’t recognize the other voice off the top of his head. He looked to the ceiling, ticking through a list of individuals in his own head, nearly deflating when he realized. He shook his head, cursing under his breath, and continued to climb the few remaining stairs with more of a clumsy heft to his step. Kurapika wasn’t one to back out, and was horribly stubborn, reaching the landing with a sluggish determination. Determination for what, he wasn’t sure.

He took an exhausted breath before knocking heavily on the door directly in front of him, short and purposeful raps from knuckle to wood. All conversation came to a halt, footsteps approached the door, and he stood high on his own feet with chest forward as if he was a proud bird of prey. A man, who he could only assume to be Hanzo, captain of the guard, opened the door, staring down at him.

“What would your business here be, miss?”

The knight’s hands tensed at his sides, setting his jaw and keeping his resolve. “You will find me to be  _ Sir  _ Kurta, royal associate to her highness Neon Nostrade. I have company with Lady Senritsu and her interpreter, please accept my apologies if I happen to be interrupting anything of importance.” 

The guard huffed, turning to glance back into the room, muttering something. There was a pause, and upon a sound of assent from within, he stepped back just slightly and pulled the door further open to gesture a permission of entrance. Kurapika slid inside, seating himself close to Melody with no hesitation, confident despite his lingering dizziness and slight perturbation. The guard returned to a standing position next to the seat of another patron.

“Your highness.” Kurapika’s face remained firm, almost delighted at the prince’s scowl.

“Sir Kurta.” His eyes narrowed in displeasure, suspicion, brows knitting together to fold and wrinkle the skin around them. Kurapika inhaled. “Are you free of former conversation, or am I intruding?” Bill turned a bit, uttering words that seemed distant and signing gently in accordance.

“We were merely discussing the conditions of staffing after the wedding; Lady Cheadle suggested we solidify who will stay and who will return to Yorkshin. The king and queen have little of their own desire here, so we asked for the weight of the betrothed.”

Kurapika smiled just slightly. “That happens to be my reason for seeking you, actually, a delightful coincidence.” He turned again to the prince and tilted his head just slightly, “Are you sure you would not like to conclude this discussion without myself present?” He huffed, diverting his gaze and bouncing a leg. “I find it to be of little matter, you will be informed either way, will you not?” Sir Kurta hummed in dissent, watching the royalty further divert his gaze.

Kurapika was quickly filled in on details, Melody had no objections to staying  _ or  _ leaving, nor did Bill. They reminded him, too, that Basho had planned to return to Yorkshin immediately following the wedding. The coachman, as well as the jester, would be going back, much to the princess’ dismay, and to Kurapika’s delight. The prince continued a cycle of staring with an unpleasant expression, then looking away and drumming fingers against the knee of his stationary leg, the other still bouncing from the ball of his foot up to the hip. 

After making brief conversation, Melody stretched her small body and communicated something to Bill, who nodded. “We believe that will be all, your highness. Thank you kindly for your time.” The two rose, Kurapika following shortly after. Hanzo walked to hold open the door, certainly assuring all other parties had left before escorting the prince to wherever he needed to go. The prince, however, lifted a hand as Kurapika made his way toward the door.

“Hanzo, I’d like to speak briefly with Sir Kurta.” The guard nodded, beginning to shut the door, before the brunette asserted, “ _ Alone.”  _

Hanzo paused, then nodded. “I will be waiting at the base of the stairwell, your highness.” Upon that, he left, with only Kurapika and the prince remaining in the room. He felt his blood pressure spike, mind escaping him in the speed of its thoughts. He sat back down cautiously, making note of how the prince’s leg was still shaking, albeit much less severely. 

“I suppose you wish to address our interaction last night, correct?” Sir Kurta spoke bluntly before the other could begin, now confident in his ability to repair the damage he had drunkenly placed upon his own aspirations. 

“That, well- I… Yes. Yes, that is what I wanted to discuss with you.” He seemed taken aback, although Kurapika wasn’t sure why. He took the opportunity to say all he needed to lay the groundwork.

“I apologize for my harsh choice of words, though my assertions remain the same. I only wish the best for the princess, and I misjudged you based on a first impression.” 

“I was not expecting an apology.”

“You are surprised? Or do you mean that one is not necessary?”

“Both, it seems.” He rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped against the arm of his chair. “You do not seem to be one to apologize so easily. That, and you truly caught me off guard with your behavior.”

“I will admit, I was under the spirits of fine wine.”

“So you would not make the same assertions now?”

“I never said that.” They sat in silence for a moment.

“Your highness,” Kurapika hummed, “If you were not expecting an apology, why have you asked to speak with me?” 

The prince nearly deflated in his seat, staring at the ground and hanging his head just slightly. “I just… I have simply never met one with an occupation akin to yours. I do not know how much authority you have, what powers and privileges your position brings you, how concerned I should be if I find myself on the receiving end of your wrath.”

“Oh, is that all?” The prince’s look of borderline disdain was more than enough to answer his question. “Then, I shall gladly answer to any questions you may have”

The brunette tapped a finger against his bicep, arms crossed over his chest and looking to the empty wall beside him. “What is the worst you can do, within the law and your own authority?”

The knight thought for a moment. “To harm  _ you?  _ Until you are wedded, I am able to have the princess sent back to Yorkshin. Though, that would be self sabotage, as King Nostrade would suffer greatly as a result.” The prince nodded, still staring intently at the stone bricks.

“And, my family?”

“Simple, I could return to those who currently employ me and pull strings that would lead to a declaration of war against your kingdom. Though, again, we would be crushed beneath the heel of your military strength, as you are infinitely more powerful than my current employer. This is why we have decided to marry the princess to you, after all.”

The prince grunted in understanding, motionless for a moment before shifting upward suddenly. “What do you mean,  _ you  _ decided?” They stared at each other for a moment, and Kurapika easily realized exactly what he was asking, and he laughed, tossing his head back, blonde hair swaying with the motion. “Do you know nothing? Marriage is a tool for monarchs, your highness, to secure treaties and good spirits between kingdoms.”

“That much I assumed, but, I thought…” he trailed off, biting a knuckle of his hand. “I thought she, you know…” 

“Fairytale love is not realized in your circumstances, your highness,” he interrupted, “the princess is certainly infatuated with you, but she did not have any say in which young man she would spend the rest of her life with. I apologize if I crushed your dreams, but the only influence in such decisions is what the ruler will gain.”

He stared at the ground again for a moment, sighing and sinking deeper into his chair. “So many kings had offered their daughters, I truly did believe that my interest in your princess, the  _ idea  _ of her I received in writing, the letters I wrote back, had some hand in arranging this.”

Kurapika shook his head. “She never received your letters, or any letters for that matter, we worried it would sway her and lead to her discontent with whoever we chose. She was only given the confirmation of your engagement. She  _ did _ read it like a prayer, though.”

There was another silence, and the brunette’s posture continued to deteriorate as he strained his eyes toward the ceiling. Kurapika spoke, gently, “I hope your feelings towards me are not tempestuous, I was without a mind that you may not have known these things.”

“Oh, my feelings are most  _ certainly  _ tempestuous, but not for you in particular. I need some time to think.” The knight took a deep breath, rising from his own seat. “Then, I will leave you to your thoughts. We will speak again today, I believe, tea in the courtyard. I will see you then.”

With that, he departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf freddie updating their fics? never heard of such a thing. anyhooch *drops this and scampers away*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea with cohorts, a walk in the garden, and repulsion from all beautiful things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krpk brooding momence.
> 
> HI GON IS IN THIS CHAPTER BARKBARKBARKBARKBARK,,, but so is hisoka because nothing is sacred.  
> Gon is Brown in this, he’s also autistic because I kin him and this boy is 700% definitely neurodivergent and also its my fic and i said so. But remember people aren’t ableist so its okay. He’s written similarly to Killua in terms of vocabulary because he’s like. A child. And he can’t read. Oh well. Kill ging 2020 please enjoy :D

Tea and polite conversation was not Kurapika’s most beloved pastime, but he still felt quite fondly about it. Four unfamiliar knights walked them, as well as a woman carrying a tray, to a lattice structure sprawling with vines at the center of a split pathway. The table was set quickly before they were seated, light peeking through the vines above and painting bright spots across everything below it. Cheadle poured their tea, the staff member making her way back to the castle. The garden was enormous, a hillside covered in greenery with bleeding splotches of color. It looked meticulously tended, the smell of cut leaves just barely lingering in the air before the scent of the tea overtook his sense. He had left his own notebook in his room, assuming he’d have no need for it.

Kurapika tipped the cup up to his lips, letting the earthy, sweet taste of the tea dance across his taste buds and warm the back of his throat. The table was quiet, and Neon swirled the warm liquid around in the cup, timid and blushing as the garden shivered in the wind around them. The prince stretched with a groan that bordered on a growl, it scratched at Kurapika’s ears for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Cheadle thumbed through her own notebook, worrying her lower lip slightly between hidden teeth, looking for something specific. It took a few moments to find the page before she dragged a finger up and down the page to find the exact point with which to spur discussion. She pressed her thumb into that point when she found it, holding the book open and taking a gentle sip from her teacup with the other hand.

“Nobody here needs introduction, surely, so I will not bother with such things. I have a short list of items to be squared away, then we may spend the rest of our time out here freely, understood?” an exchange of glances, and nods of various tempos in confirmation.

They were such simple things, what Cheadle had asked. So easily answered. Nature of contact with the King of Yorkshin, Neon’s desired level of participation in the Paladiknight family's royal affairs, who would be staying and who would be returning home, which Kurapika knew, and was simply filling Cheadle in on what he knew. It was nearly comical how little the royalty spoke, keeping busy with sips of tea and grazing on the various foods provided. The prince was tracing the saucer with his middle and forefinger, the princess was staring at him with fervor that seemed fully unreturned. She was excited, having spoken with wedding planners just before they met for this outing, mind now buzzing with fantasies of her fairytale wedding. Kurapika kept diverting his gaze to look at the prince, always staring over everyone’s heads, eyes darting about each time the blonde fixed his attention on that sorry excuse for royalty. 

“Your highnesses, and Sir Kurta, do you have concerns of your own? Requests?” Her spectacles slid forward on her nose as she reached to pour more tea into each of their delicate cups. The prince, drawing his hands out from the back of his head and drew out his sentence in an aching way, staring at the top of the awning.

“Who is our kingdom forming bonds with upon our marriage?”

Cheadle sputtered slightly, looking back and forth. Kurapika hiccuped, tea sloshing in his cup.

“Yorkshin, and Yorkshin only, as well as our-  _ their  _ close political partners. All Yorkshin will gain is bonds with Swardani and your close political partners. Trades, military support, things along that line.” He clenched his fists, now laying in his lap, staring intently at the man who was still gazing upward.

“Okay, okay. Lady Cheadle, am I within my right to decline this marriage?”

Kurapika’s face grew hot, and Neon quite narrowly avoided dropping her cup. The administrator looked between all three of them with her mouth slightly agape. One could nearly see the gears turning in her head for the brief moment of stunned silence before she set her jaw and pushed up those round glasses. “That is not for me to say, your highness. But, I, erm, assume that would be in the hands of your parents, and Yorkshin’s king.” Kurapika took a sharp breath, leaning forward abruptly. “I believe it is too late now to withdraw, as the events in motion have reached a speed that we cannot bring to a stop without severe damage to all involved.” He shook, placing a hand on the table and gripping the cloth, the texture against his fingers providing stimulation that kept his mind from escaping him fully, “War may break out, and I find it hard to believe that casualties of that scale would weigh well on your conscience.”

Neon placed a hand on Kurapika’s arm, and he sighed, leaning back into his seat and continuing to stroke the fabric of the tablecloth between his fingers, staring at them to avoid looking at anyone around him. Strangely, the princess spoke up before anyone else, releasing Kurapika’s arm, she hadn’t displayed this type of behavior since they had arrived.

“So, your highness, what do you do when you are not attending to duties?” Small talk, distraction. Filling the air of silence and tension with surface level inquiries. Smart, that one, despite her ignorance of all things around her. Kurapika, exhausted by the mere presence of his own emotions, mustered up the power to seize the opportunity, to speak to Cheadle separately without even leaving the table, words hushed and altered from true meaning to seem inconspicuous. “I will be writing to the dukes of Padokea tonight, regarding their trade connections with this kingdom as well as others. Solidifying deals that His Highness, Kind of Yorkshin, has wished for. I would appreciate an opportunity to speak with your treasurer before writing.”

Cheadle’s concerned expression softened behind her cup. “When you brief the other court members tonight, you may speak with Zepile. If needed, I will escort you there.” Kurapika shook his head, insisting that he could find it himself. “I should tell you,” Cheadle’s voice dropped just above a whisper, “since your jester will be performing at both lunch and dinner tonight, I am able to arrange for you to eat separately if you wish. I am aware of your distaste for him, and I cannot help but agree with it.” She smiled a bit then, and Kurapika let out a short, but honest laugh, a sound that had managed to escape him far more often than he’d like.

One couldn’t be sure of how much time passed before the teapot ran empty. Cheadle leaned out from under the cover of vines intertwined in the lattice, peering at the sun in the sky with a hand as her shield to the burning brightness. “I do suppose it is time we headed back,” she sighed, “lunch will be served soon, and there are things I must attend to in the meantime.” The royal engaged stood unceremoniously, Kurapika helping to put dishes onto the tray. Neon lifted her dress to avoid muddying it, Cheadle walking steadily so as to not drop the dishes, and the walk back was nothing exciting in the least. No words exchanged, no passing glances, just shoes against slightly damp grass and wetted stone.

Kurapika thought his eyes would glaze over. Cheadle handed the tray to a staff member, turning a corner away from the group, the prince and his guards separating shortly after. Then, just down the corridor, the jester stood, leaning against the stone wall.

“May I walk with you?” 

Neon cheerfully nodded, the jester smirking, walking in irritating strides as the decorations on his hideous outfit rustled against each other, producing awful noises. He forced the sensations away, detaching himself, but still heard their intrusive conversation behind him despite his best efforts. He would guide the princess to her room, then exit the side door near the grand entrance, visit the castle’s coachman early, stables located on the opposite side of the courtyard to where he’d just been. He prayed to all gods and good spirits that the fool would not follow.

Kurapika, as it turns out, was the fool.

“So, Sir Kurta, how have  _ you  _ been keeping busy? It seems that you have few duties to attend to, yet I have seen so little of you.”

“It has been  _ one  _ day, Hisoka.” The man sneered at the use of his name, humming out a sigh and lifting his hands, resting them behind his head so his elbows stuck out like branches of a tree. “Still, I have seen the princess twice since arriving, and you not even once. Your first day could not possibly have you running ragged, am I correct?”

“Yes, but I had personal matters to attend to-“

“Oh? How  _ intriguing _ .”

“Please, control yourself. I spoke with Lady Melody about recent events in our lives, then caught up on the sleep that you  _ know  _ I had been missing over the last week.”

“Well, there was no need to write me a novel.” Kurapika scowled at the jester, who did not avert his gaze, eyes fixed on an invisible point directly ahead of him. “You know, sir, the dukes of Padokea are eagerly awaiting a message from you, it would serve you well to not test their patience.”

“And  _ how  _ would you know that?”

“I am well acquainted with a member of the family.”

“It has hardly been two days, I doubt they are watching hourglasses awaiting my letter.”

“I only wish to help you.” There was a mocking, melodic tone to his words.

They were at the door then, a guard standing idly by. The jester turned on his heel and chuckled. “I will leave you to your business, then, I will see you at mealtimes.” He then froze for a moment, turning his head to look back, only saying “or not” before trotting away. His presence was draining, uncomfortable in the lengths of his knowledge, always acting, behaving like he knew something you didn't. It was maddening, and Kurapika was  _ so  _ thankful that the jester would be leaving before long.

The guard allowed Kurapika passage, white-blue daylight cutting through the bars of a series of gates that opened before him and guide the knight into the outdoors

The East courtyard was absolutely gorgeous, even Kurapika would have to admit so, despite his jadedness to such things. Indeed, the West courtyard also had its splendor, but it was more impressive architecturally than in landscaping. The East, however, was  _ stunning  _ in the flora that covered what seemed like miles and miles of soft grasses trembling in the wind. 

Flowers, a decent portion being pansies, sat in their large, seemingly ever-growing arrangements, reds and oranges and yellows and shades of white and blends of all in between sat gorgeously in the sun like a bowl of cherries. Topiaries groomed into impressive spirals, vines along archways that covered countless stretches of the path. It smelled of lingering petrichor, an unwashed vase, an earthy sweetness that was only enhanced by the beauty of the garden. 

Sir Kurta was not especially sure of where he was meant to go, to navigate to the stableman’s barn, following a winding trail of flat stones laid in the bare ground that pointed towards a less open area. They would not have such a building in plain sight, obviously, barns and stables were often quite ugly things, like weeds in beautiful grasslands or a stain on a ballgown, hidden away from eyes that would let it taint the excellence of the garden. Kurapika wasn’t one to request assistance from anyone, but he was already drained and finding himself turned around on the stone pathways, passing one particular archway four times, he counted, and the sun ticked its way to noontime. He was beyond relieved when he spotted another person nearby, crouched down on their toes by a section of flowerless plants.

“Hello there,” he called as his walking pace picked up, “might I request some assistance?” As Kurapika neared the figure, he realized that they were small. A young boy, it seemed. He had to be the son of a live-in staff member, wearing a variation of staff attire, and he worked outside judging by his outfit. Kurapika approached him, slower now, gently nodding when the boy turned around to look at him

“Forgive me young one, for my interruption of your work, but do you know where I can find the stableman?”

The boy cocked his head to the side in confusion for only a moment before his eyes lit up, beaming.

“I’ve not met you! My name is Gon!”

Kurapika looked him up and down, mouth dipping into a shallow smile. He had deep ochre eyes, squinted from his huge smile, cheeks tawny with dark freckles piled atop them and cluttering the wrinkled bridge of his nose, quickly softening as he closed his mouth and pressed his lips together. 

“I am Sir Kurta, here with the princess, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Kurapika extended his hand to greet the boy, who stared at it, somewhat puzzled, then grabbed it and tugged a bit. “Come with me, you said you needed to speak with Saccho, yes?” Kurapika, shocked, nodded. “Yes, yes. Saccho.” The boy smiled again, turning while still holding the knight’s hand and pulling him half-hesitantly along. 

He was young, certainly no older than the youngest Zoldyck duke, hair coily, shaped into spines, dancing wildly as he almost skipped through the courtyard. “My father worked here, ages ago, caring for the flora and fauna, making sure everything was appealing to the eye, but he has been gone for quite awhile. So now, I help with the horses and make sure wandering rabbits keep away from the plants.” He was an odd one, truly oblivious to social cues and manners, chatty in a way quite different to those like the princess. Whether it was a mental deficit or his education, or rather lack thereof due to his position, was no pressing matter; because the child opened a gate that squealed when they made their way through. The large stone passage through an exterior wall led towards the enterance’s courtyard, and the boy continued jabbering on, but Kurapika had to prepare statements in his head beforehand to avoid tripping on his words and forcing interactions to last any longer than initially required.

That, and the stench of a stable left much to be desired.

The scraping of a fork against a plate, and arrogance.

When they reached the stable, the man Kurapika assumed to be Saccho was leading two horses inside, pushing the large door open by pushing his back against it. He spotted the two, nodding quickly before ducking in, leaving the door open. The boy tugged at Kurapika’s hand once more, leaving him to stagger forward very suddenly and nearly topple over. The unpleasant aroma of an animal living space was quick to burn at his nostrils, and they tried to maintain steady breathing as dust was kicked up all around them.

Saccho was odd looking, with small dark eyes and a nose both flat and wide, hooked and almost forming an arrow down to his protruding upper lip. It would not be intended as unkind to say he bore resemblance to the equine he cared for, as there was a gentleness in his appearance that horses certainly did not possess. He was quick in his work, dusting off his hands as he approached the two that awaited his conversation.

“Good day, I, eh, assume you are Sir Kurta?” He spoke, slightly slurred and uneven through crooked teeth, nodding rather than extending a hand, which Kurapika deeply appreciated. Though there was no ill will towards Saccho, he still wished to avoid being unclean. “Yes, and you are the stableman?” The man before him cracked his joints with a few rolls of his shoulders. “That would be correct, as well as the coachman. I am aware that the princess requires transportation tomorrow morning, however I will likely not be the one taking the carriage. Your own coachman may take the job if he wishes, or one of ours will be assigned.”

The knight folded his hands. There were no drawbacks to having this castle’s staff escort Neon and Eliza, they were certainly a better choice than Kite, already familiar with the kingdom. However, having Kite take them all but assured their prolonged absence, which left Kurapika more time without the princess’ whines drilling holes in his skull. No, no, there was too high a risk for harm to the parties involved if the navigator was without his wits of the geography.

Arrangements were quickly settled, the boy rocking on his heels and flapping his hands absently all the while. Neon would depart shortly after breakfast, likely returning well before sunset. One of her own knights would escort her, as well as a knight from Swardani’s castle. That was the princess and Eliza done away with for the afternoon, as well as Sir Squala. Blessed delightfully with time to do away with his mundane note taking and letter writing so he may soak in the time left for him without responsibilities before being swung back into duty’s call.

The boy guided Kurapika back through the garden, and he mulled over the list of remaining tasks. Melody, wedding planning, tea, travel arrangements. There was still a second staff meeting, he’d meet with the officiant after dinner, and he’d have to talk with the cohorts that had traveled along.

The knight barely noticed when the boy ducked away to kneel on the cobblestone rim of a flower brush. He thumbed at the stems of blue blooms and the small white clusters of flowers, craned his head to look back at Kurapika. “Will you be seeing Leorio soon, sir?” The blonde paused for a moment, brain stuttering behind his question. The name escaped him, before realizing quite suddenly. “You seem to forget yourself in referring to a prince by given name, sirrah.” Those amber eyes blinked a few times in confusion.

“Oh, but we are good friends! He has given me permission.” Kurapika set his jaw, deeply wishing to further prod and scorn the child for his blatant disrespect, but he swallowed the bile of repulsion back down. “I will indeed be having a meal with his highness quite soon, for what reason are you asking?” He smiled, creases forming around his eyes and turned back to the greenery, hurriedly snapping blossoms from the stems and collecting them in a dirtied hand. He stumbled upon standing back upon his feet, and almost skipped back to stand in front of Kurapika.

“Sirrah, why would-”

“Please give these to him for me, if you will, sir!”

He had to admit, they did look lovely. They were a hazy indigo with a darker, deeper spread of color in the center. The white buds collected between the small, makeshift bouquet were in small clusters, hints of green in the petals that complimented the blue wonderfully. As Kurapika carefully took the flowers from the boy’s hand, he bounced and babbled. “They’re cornflowers, his favorite flowers of this season. That is what he told me. We do not get to talk much, but he is very kind, a very good friend, I always try to get flowers to him if I've not seen him for a while.” Kurapika huffed slightly, nodding. A tiny detour of this caliber couldn’t hurt, it would likely build trust with the prince. “Very well,” he hummed, “I will deliver these as soon as I am able.” 

He received a joyful noise from the boy, who ran ahead with no indication for him to follow. They were quite close to the castle, and Kurapika pressed the nail of his thumb into the wet stems. Cornflowers, not quite royal blue, but faded, separated from it, if only by a miniscule amount. They did fit the prince, for all he knew amongst their few brief interactions.

Royal, yes, but jaded and set apart. Not as vibrant, elegant as desired, but certainly pleasing to the eye nonetheless. Earthy, resemblant of pepper in scent, so accurately contrary, unfamiliar to Kurapika in a rousing manner that scratched at the folds of his brain and made him want to stare. He so badly wanted to stare.

But they were so ugly, it hammered into his mind beyond will, and he tore his eyes away to gaze at the stone walls ahead. Ugly things, dirty, that he had no need to carry. Unsightly and repulsive, constructed in a deplorable way possessing no reason to make his skin crawl, and  _ so  _ pretty, positively gorgeous, so agonizingly tempting, but they were not his flowers to look upon.

The scraping of a fork against a plate, the emotions that must be left unspoken, and arrogance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yuo styoopid litle knighte man,,,,, saye u are hornie and goe.  
> yeah gon is besties with prince dipshit yes the flowers thing is because im a rabid animal that cant do adequate slowburn eat up while u can babes bc i am probably not going to update in 200 years due to storyline frustration.
> 
> n e ways.  
> this chap wasnt beta read so im very sorry for any mistakes that make u unstan me 


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